


Futures

by Million_Moments



Series: Harry verse [13]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family, No Plot/Plotless, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard and Camille debate what their children will be when they grow up. Part of Harry Verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Futures

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn’t really have a plot, it is just a snap shot really of family life. Set around the same time as “The Story”

When Camille walked in to their bedroom she found her husband flicking through photos on her iPad, frowning. “What’s the matter?” She asked.  

“Well you know how when we went to pick up Harry today from school Emma was there with her new baby…” He started.

“Oh my goodness, yes,” Camille said, as she slipped under the covers next to him. “I know all babies are beautiful in their own way, but that child could _not_ be described as cute. I’ve never seen a new born look so, well, so angry!”

Richard looked at her in surprise, and she grimaced, “Oh no, did you think the baby was cute?” It would be just her luck to admit such a thing and find Richard was intending to tell her how beautiful the baby was. Oh God, she hoped he hadn’t changed his mind and wanted a third baby, Harry and Alex were simply exhausting she would never find the energy for another.

“No, no I agree with you entirely.” Camille tried not to look relived. “I just didn’t expect _you_ to feel the same way.” He looked almost disappointed in her, Camille supposed he did rather rely on her to be the sunny side of the relationship.

“Well I didn’t say she wasn’t beautiful, I said she wasn’t exactly cute. You know, she is beautiful in a non-traditional way…” Camille emphasised. “Anyway, was that everything?” Richard looked thoughtful, like maybe he was considering not telling her after all. “Come on, spit it out!”

“Well it was just Emma obviously thought the baby was the most beautiful creature on the planet. She was completely oblivious to the, uh, wrinkly face and bags under the eyes and generally…grumpy expression of her child. Obviously that would be because it is her baby, and the Oxytocin released at birth would…” He stopped, probably detecting the small sigh Camille had tried, but failed, to hold in. She had heard the Oxytocin lecture so many, many times – usually after she requested a cuddle. With both Harry and Alex she had always been amused to find him holding them, shirt off and babies in nothing more than their nappies, all in an effort to promote that bonding process. She would have preferred he follow his instincts rather than scientific papers, but then she supposed it _had_ made him feel bonded with the babies.

“Well, anyway,” he continued, wisely deciding to skip the science lecture. “I was wondering how common this occurrence might be…not spotting your child isn’t, uh, cute.”

Camille was overpowered by her curiosity and grabbed the iPad off him, “Oh Richard, are you looking up pictures of ugly babies on the internet? Is this some sort of social experiment where you look at the parent’s comments and those given by their friends? Try to detect when people are just being polite?” Camille knew she shouldn’t have let him read her old university Sociology text books, of course it would lead to something like this. She looked more closely at the pictures, and then realisation struck, “Hang on, this is Alex!”

 

* * *

 

 

“That _is_ a good idea for an experiment,” Richard said thoughtfully at Camille’s suggestion. Then he realised that she wasn’t taking the realisation he has been reviewing pictures of their own baby well.  

“Forget the experiment!” Camille snapped. “I _swear_ Alex was a beautiful baby. Have you photoshopped these or something? She looks grumpy in every one! I do not remember her having bags under her eyes like that either.”

“No, Camille that is what our Alexandra _really_ looked like as a baby.” Richard could understand her disbelief, he had been surprised how little his memories fit the reality of the photographs.

“Oh God!” Camille sat bolt upright, looking a little mortified. “We forced her on _everyone_. They all had to say she was cute when she wasn’t! I mean, I suppose it isn’t our fault, we didn’t know did we?”

“I think subconsciously we may have realised. I’ve noticed we took a lot less pictures of Baby 2 at that age than Harry – who was cute, by the way, I checked - and I don’t think that is just because she was the second baby. The majority of pictures we took were on special occasions, when she is dressed up, and there are far less candid shots.” He was being quite analytical about the whole thing, whilst Camille seemed a little overwhelmed by emotion.

“You don’t think she’ll realise, do you?” Camille had tears in her eyes, and with a jolt he realised she was worried Alex would think they loved her less or something. Which was not true in the slightest, the girl was an absolute terror but they loved her to pieces.

“That there are a few less baby photos of her? No I don’t. Besides, she can claim to have the whole ugly duckling thing going on, I mean she is an absolutely beautiful child now.”

Looking a lot calmer, Camille sat back against the headboard again, “Yes, I suppose she is a pretty little girl.”

Richard didn’t think Camille meant it the same way he did, so he pursued the topic, “She’s not just pretty, she is really beautiful, very photogenic.” He grabbed the iPad back off her and opened another album and passed it back. “She luckily inherited all her looks from you. All those loose curls, big brown eyes and big smile. It is understandable why the Commissioner asked about getting some photographs of her to use in the tourism brochure.”

“I thought it was some sort of a political correctness thing, and that he wanted to have somebody of mixed race in the brochure. Oh God, I am a terrible Mother! I didn’t notice my own baby was ugly, and now I haven’t noticed how beautiful my little girl is!”

“You aren’t a terrible Mother,” he said in an effort to console her. “You are just the sort of person who looks past what somebody looks like – it isn’t what you see. If it was there was no way you would have married me.”

“You’re handsome!” She cried. At his raised eyebrows she pressed on, “You have lovely eyes. I hoped both times the children would get your eyes.”

“But luckily your genetics proved too strong!” He hadn’t been trying to fish for compliments, and found he was a little embarrassed by the compliment.

“You _are_ handsome,” she said again, more firmly. “Why did you say no to that brochure then, I would have thought you’d want to show off your beautiful child!”

“I hated the idea of tourists possibly recognising her. Also she may have inherited her looks from you but she got her co-ordination skills from me. The photographer would probably want some nice pictures of her running down the beach playing and end up getting one of her flat on her face having tripped over a piece of driftwood!” He thought for a moment, and then suggested, “Perhaps we should get her a pair of heels.”

“What?” Camille cried. “She is four years old! Why on earth would you suggest getting her heels, Richard?”

“Because if she starts practising now she might have mastered it by the time she grows up!” He had thought his reasoning was obvious. “It’ll give her a better chance if she does want to be a model or something when she is older.”

“You would want her to be a model?” Camille asked, incredulous.

“I want her to be whatever she wants to be. If that is a model it is fine. And if Harry does decide to be a cricketer that is fine as well!”

“Really?” Camille said, eyes narrowed. “You don’t want the children to have a career that is ‘of practical use to the world’?” She did the last bit voice lowered and affecting an English accent, it proved to be such an uncanny impression of his father Richard found himself reconsidering his plans to make love to her after they were done with all this talking. His shock must have showed on his face, because she frowned and asked, “What?”

“Please don’t _ever_ do that voice again,” he said sincerely. “And you know I’m not my father, I just want them to be happy.” He was a bit unhappy she would think he would try to influence the children in the same way he had been.

“Of course you do,” Camille said, looking chastened. She snuggled into him, laying her head on his chest, and was as always instantly forgiven. “You’re a wonderful father, you know I think that. I just thought you might have _some_ ideas of what you might like the children to do when they grow up…”

“By that I assume you _do_ have an idea.”

She pushed herself up to sitting again, and smiled, confirming he was right, “Harry is going to be a scientist, I think,” she said. “Not sure what kind, maybe an entomologist. I thought the insect collecting was a phase but he is still doing it. I didn’t even know mealy bugs existed until he started culturing the things on the pot plants.”

He chuckled softly, both he and Camille had decided to sacrifice the Aloe and the Amaranths in order to encourage his pursuit. It was not the first time, it had taken Richard and Camille ages to figure out why all the plants on the porch kept dying. Eventually Camille had caught Harry with a “potion” he had made from her various bottles of stuff she kept in the bathroom. He had, apparently, been trying to come up with something that made plants grow faster so he could “cure world hunger”. At the start of Harry’s latest endeavour to rear mealy bugs, Camille had decided to move the _Oncidium baueri_ (or as she called it, the orchid) he had gotten her one anniversary into the safety of their bedroom though. This reassured him that she had actually like the gift. He still felt he was completely useless at picking presents for her.

“Scientist does sound likely,” he agreed. “But he does seem to be very good at cricket.”

“Oh that maybe true, but you know what Harry is like. He may well be able to qualify to play on a national team, but he’d never be able to pick which one: England, France or the West Indies.” Harry did seem to suffer from cultural identity issues for one so young.

“Harry’s smart, he would realise there is no point in the French national cricket team…”

Camille punched him playfully on the arm “Hey, they won silver in the Olympics once!” Clearly Camille had learnt this in her recent desperate attempts to seem interested in cricket, and the news certainly came as a surprise to Richard.

“Cricket isn’t an Olympic sport,” he told her.

“Not now, but it was,” she said, but Richard noticed she was sounding a little evasive.

“When?” He asked, staring at her pointedly.

“Oh, a few years back, not sure of the exact year…” He continued to stare, confident she knew _exactly_ what year. Eventually she caved, “Fine, 1900!”

“1900!” Richard couldn’t help himself, he was feeling pretty smug. “I bet that was the last time they won any kind of medal or trophy as well.” Camille was looking a tiny bit sulky, so he decided to end the teasing. “Well, still, silver is quite good. I mean they would have had to beat a lot of other teams known to be better at cricket, right?”

“Yes,” Camille said quickly, but once again it was obvious to him she was hiding something.

“Camille?” He questioned.

With a great huff, she admitted, “There were only two teams in the Cricket tournament, Great Britain and France.”

Now he couldn’t help himself, he burst into laughter. “So they managed to win Silver, in tournament that only contained 2 teams?” He was pretty close to tears he was laughing so hard. “Camille, I’m sorry, but I believe my initial point about the French national cricket team stands.”

“Fine! Fine…Yes, I suppose it is funny. Actually the team consisted largely of British ex-patriots leaving in France anyway. There are sports the French are good at you know, better at than the UK!” When Richard managed to stop laughing, she decided to change the subject, “And Alex, I think Alex is going to be an actress.”

“Because she is _so_ dramatic?” Richard asked. “I suppose she does rather fit the diva category. I never considered an actress before though.”

“Well what did you think?”

He thought about it for a moment, and the truth was their only one thing he always thought Baby 2 was going to end up as. “Princess,” he said firmly. “Or maybe Duchess.”

Camille was looking at him like he had gone crazy. He supposed it was a rather audacious statement. “Is there some sort of royalty in your background you haven’t told me about..?” She asked.

“No! Oh please, that is ridiculous. Why would you think I had royalty in my blood?”

“Oh I don’t know, you did used to be quite pompous. I don’t think I’d have been that surprised if you announced you were the son of a Duke one day. Ok, so if she isn’t inheriting the title how exactly is Alex going to end up as a Princess?”

“One day she will catch the eye of some shy, kind and handsome heir to a throne who will fall completely in love with her. She’ll resist his affections for a while because despite all her attention seeking she doesn’t really want to be in the public eye all the time. Eventually she’ll realise that she loves him as well and agree to marry him, then become a well-loved public figure who does huge amounts of charity work and promoting good causes.” Camille was staring at him. When Richard mentally reviewed what he had just said he could sort of see why. “Look, I don’t know why I think that, I just do…”

“Are you seriously saying all you think Alex is going to grow up to be is, essentially, somebody’s wife?” Camille was angry, he needed to explain himself fully if he didn’t want to be in the dog house for the next week.

“Ok, I know it might have sounded like that, but you’re missing the bit where I said she does loads for charity and good causes! You know underneath all that drama and the odd tantrum, she is actually a very caring child. She insisted on baking all those God awful cupcakes to raise money for the marine reserve and the other day when I was trying to go down the shop with her she insisted we wait ten minutes to ensure a slug managed to successfully cross the pavement. She wouldn’t let me pick it up and move it in case I hurt it. So I guess what I was trying to do was create a scenario in which she is able to do as much charity work as she likes whilst not having to worry about her income.”

“Right,” Camille said, shaking her head but looking at him fondly. “I _suppose_ that is ok. Though I still think the fact you have thought about it so much is a little weird. Yet also somehow very sweet.”

She leaned in and kissed him, then pulled back a little to give him a smile that made her intentions very clear. His brain briefly reminded him of the impression of his father she had managed, but when she kissed him again, the memory was quickly pushed way, way to the back of his mind…

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know, complete lack of plot…


End file.
